


Silent Need

by summerhall



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hints of Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerhall/pseuds/summerhall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something about just being near her, when they didn't need words; it made him feel better when everything else felt bad and worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Need

If only he had a nickel for each time he'd driven down Lake Road, the sting of his crisis-of-the-day still fresh, and the constant thump of _talk to Kristina, talk to Kristina, Kristina, Kristina_ reverberating in his mind.

Then again, better not. He's already got enough money in trust funds to finance a small country, and adding in all those nickels would just be tacky in this economy.

Alexis isn't home when he pulls into the driveway. Probably still working off her community service hours, something he should be doing himself, instead of spending his evenings with a prostitute, even one as nice as Abby. The thought of his worse-than-disastrous night leaves Michael beating his head against the steering wheel, half out of sheer embarrassment and frustration, half hoping that he could knock whatever's wrong with him up there back into place. It doesn't work like that, he knows, but he'll try anything at this point. Anything to be normal again, if he ever was to begin with.

Life wasn't that bad when he was growing up. Hell, it was actually pretty good when he wasn't getting kidnapped or shot at or shooting his potential stepmother and trying to smother his biological father. He had people upon people who loved him, who spoiled him, who let him get chauffeured around in limos and live in fancy houses. When it was good, he was the happiest kid in the world; when it was bad, it was like Hell on Earth. And then it only got worse.

The only good thing that's happened to him since he's woken up from the coma is Kristina. They weren't that close growing up. She lived with her mom, and he lived with Sonny. She wasn't allowed to visit or go to his birthday parties or be a sister in more than name only. Still, he loved her, and when he saw her again after he woke up, something just clicked between them.

It wasn't until they were halfway to Mexico, driving entirely too fast for the two-lane country highway they were on, the top down and their hair blowing in the breeze that he realized how much he needed her. Not just on the lam with him then, but every day since. She wove her way into his life, deep into his life, almost overnight. She's become one of his go-to's, his therapist, his best friend.

He had even thought...maybe... _before_...there seemed to be this...he had felt...and he _knew_ she did too...but...now everything was just too screwed up. Neither of them were in the right place for anything... _like that_. They may never be. And they really shouldn't _ever_ be.

Tonight, though, he needed her. He just needed to sit with her. He didn't want to talk, to explain. Not yet. He just wanted to sit and be comfortable with someone he trusted and loved.

She could calm him better than anyone else. Jason was good, but Jason didn't give him that sense of peace that she did. ( _Jason also couldn't give rise to that old forbidden feeling. The one that needed to be forgotten. The one he was just too screwed up for._ ) He could get angrier with her, and fight worse with her than any other person he knew. But for all their yelling and screaming, it was the quiet times he loved the most. There was just something in the silences. Something about just being near her, when they didn't need words; it made him feel better when everything else felt bad and worse.

She's already in her pajamas when he finally pulls his head off of the steering wheel and goes inside. Kristina's on her bed, reading a well-worn copy of a classic novel that she loves but he hasn't bothered to even check out the Cliff's Notes. She's wearing her glasses, something he hasn't seen her in since they were kids, and she looks so into the book that he can't disturb her, not yet. So instead he just stands against the door, watching.

The "calming" deep breathing exercises he learned in his post-AJ's death therapy aren't as quiet as he'd hoped, so she notices him quickly.

"You look like Hell."

She's worried, and he wants to say something, anything, to make her stop, but he doesn't feel like lying to her either. Truthfully, she should be worried. But he only shrugs and steps towards the bed. She had moved over and made room next to her even before she'd spoken. "I don't want to talk about it."

Kristina wants to press the issue, he can tell that even as he lies back against the mountain of pillows and closes his eyes, because she wants to help him, to make him feel better. But he's never better after arguing and she knows that if she starts asking questions that he doesn't want to answer, he'll only get angry and leave.

Reluctantly, and with a small sigh, she picks her book back up and resumes reading.

Two pages later, Michael reaches up and takes her hand, squeezing it gently and rubbing his thumb against her skin. A relieved sigh leaves his lips and an expression of content slowly works its way across his face, erasing the clear signs of stress that had been there. The look on his face, the peace she saw he felt from merely touching her hand, had Kristina rereading the same line a dozen times over before she even realized it.

A chapter later Michael falls asleep, still holding her hand, and Kristina gives up on reading altogether.


End file.
